


My love will laugh with me before the morning comes

by caranfindel



Series: My fills for Hurt!Sam prompts from the Oh Sam Community on LJ [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hurt Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 01:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caranfindel/pseuds/caranfindel
Summary: Written for the 2016 Oh Sam Triple Play for the following prompt:1. A deserted road2. Jess3. Bleeding out





	My love will laugh with me before the morning comes

It's way too cold, and that's the first sign that something's wrong. The second sign shows up immediately when he reaches toward Jess to reclaim his share of the blankets, because _fuck,_ it hurts, everything hurts, every cell in his body aches, and his shoulder is on fire, and his gut is the worst, it feels like he's been skewered, like something has been thrust through him and is pinning him to the bed, preventing any movement.

Except he's not on the bed. He's on something hard and rough and cold, so damn cold.

"Jess?" he croaks.

"Hey, baby." Her hand is warm on his shoulder - not the bad shoulder, thank God - and her voice is stressed. "You back with me?"

_Back? Where was I?_

"What..." His throat is so dry, it hurts to talk. "What's going on?"

"You're okay." She still sounds stressed, and he feels his heart rate accelerate. Something's wrong, something happened, and he has no idea what. "You just passed out for a minute."

"Oh, Jesus." He realizes he can't see, and tries to reach up to move his hair out of his eyes, but that sends a bolt of pain through his body. And if he is this messed up... "Jess? Are _you_ all right? What happened?"

"I don't... I don't even know." Her voice catches in a little sob, and he hears her take a deep breath and collect herself, the way she always does when she's on the verge of freaking out. Although it's usually about an exam or a project and not... whatever the fuck happened to them tonight. "All I know is you're hurt, and we've got to get out of here. We have to get back to the main road."

"Are you okay?" She has to be okay. He can't protect her like this. God knows what's out there, and he can't protect her from it.

"I'm all right," she says. "But you've got to get up. We have to get back to the main road. Can you do it?"

He takes a breath, steels himself, and rolls over onto his side. The pain surges so hard and fast that he feels bile rise up in his throat, feels his head detach, feels the moan crawl up from his screaming gut and tries to hold it back _(don't scare Jess, don't freak out the civilians)_ and fails badly. But he keeps going, biting back a scream, clamping his teeth down on his lip so hard that he tastes copper as he settles onto his hands and knees. He slowly rises to his knees and then uses his hands to crawl up his legs and pull himself upright.

He stands, swaying and trembling, and takes inventory. A wound at his hairline is still seeping sluggishly, plastering his hair into his eyes. His left shoulder is injured - shot, or stabbed, or clawed, he doesn't remember. But it's weak and sticky with blood. The worst is his abdomen. He tries to move his blood-soaked shirt so he can see the injury, but it's stuck to his skin, and trying to lift it brings another wave of pain and nausea. 

Jessica's hands flutter over him like hummingbirds. "Sam. _Sam._ Stay with me." Huh. Apparently she's been speaking for a while. "Are you with me? Can you walk? We have to get out of here."

"Yeah. Yeah." He tries again to swipe the hair off his face, but there's too much blood and he just can't bring himself to make the effort right now. "I'm good. Lead the way." He pulls his jacket around him, latches a finger in her coat, and stumbles forward.

They're walking down a gravel road, quiet and disused. Sam's boots kick up clouds of dust as he shuffles through the loose stones. He keeps his head down, his left hand in his pocket, his right hand loosely clutching Jess's coat. The fire in his shoulder burns hotter with every step, but the rest of him feels like it's sliding under ice.

"Jess?" he asks. His teeth are chattering but he doesn't know if it's from the cold or because his whole body is trembling in pain. "Are you sure you're okay? Do you know where we're going?"

"I'm fine, baby, I swear. We're just going to the main road. Stay with me, Sam. Don't stop."

"I'm cold." He immediately regrets saying it. It sounds whiny.

"I know you are," she says soothingly. "It's okay. You just have to keep going. Promise me you'll keep going."

He takes his left hand out of his pocket - slowly, because it hurts like a son of a bitch - and pats at his abdomen. His jacket is soaked with blood, and as he follows the trail of wet fabric with his fingers, he traces it down his leg, past his knee. "Hey, Jess, I, ah. I think I need to stop for a minute. I'm bleeding a lot."

She doesn't stop. "Yes, you are. That's why we have to keep going." Her voice is stern. They keep going.

After a few more steps, or a few hundred, or a few million, Sam feels the squelching sensation of his boot filling with blood. "Jess," he pleads. "I need to rest. Just a minute."

"We can't stop, baby. I'm afraid if we stop, you won't be able to get going again." She pulls him forward.

Sam stumbles on, hand pressed against his abdomen, uselessly trying to stop the flow of blood. There is no pressure point for a gut wound, he reminds himself. You just keep bleeding until it stops or you die.

And he's so cold.  


He walks a few more steps, or a few hundred more, or a few million more, and feels each step getting shorter and slower. Suddenly Jess's coat slips out of his grasp and the loss of that anchor makes him lose his balance. He lurches forward and lands on his knees with a cry of pain.

"Sam?" She whirls around, rushes to him. "You can't do this. You have to get up."

Sam's blood-soaked jeans provide no protection against the cold gravel. Everything hurts and he's too tired to take one more step and all he wants to do is curl up on the rocky surface for just a minute. Just one minute.

 _"Sam Winchester._ If you don't get up right now you are going to die. Get. The _fuck. Up."_ Jessica's voice is steel and ice, and Sam sighs, puts his palms against the sharp cold stones, and pushes himself upright.

"We're almost there," she says, gentle again. "See that pine tree? That's where the main road is. You can do this, Sam. I know you can."

Sam sighs deeply, wraps his fingers in her coat again, and shuffles forward. If he turns his head at the right angle, he can peer through his bloody hair and keep an eye on the tree as it gets closer and closer. After an eternity, after a million more painful steps, he reaches it. 

He falls against the tree with a moan, resting his trembling legs. Jess's hand is warm on his uninjured shoulder. "See?" she whispers in his ear. "I knew you could do it. Now don't sit down, okay? Stay here. You have to stand, or no one will be able to see you."

But no one's going to see him anyway. The road is dark and empty and completely unfamiliar. 

"Jessica? What happened to us? Where are we?"

"Don't worry about it, Sam. You're okay now. You made it."

He wants to correct her, to say _we're okay, we made it,_ but he has enough energy to either speak or remain upright against this tree. So he chooses the tree, and watches as two pinpoints of light appear over the horizon. The lights become headlights, and the headlights become a familiar rumble and a long, low, dark car, and Sam allows himself to slide down to the ground, because he did make it after all.

The car opens and his brother flies toward him with a familiar mixture of panic and anger and relief. "Jesus fuck, Sammy! Why did you follow that thing? What happened to you?" Warm fingers prod at his body, and it hurts, but he's feeling floaty enough that he doesn't really care. He lets Dean half-carry him into the car, then suddenly remembers.

"Wait," he mumbles. "We have to get Jessica."

But when he looks back toward the pine tree, he knows she won't be there.


End file.
